Traveler of the Tundra
by Uxion
Summary: Sometimes being dropped into a world where you have only seen through a screen is not all that fun as one would think.
1. Prologue

Silence. Darkness. Pain. Disorientation. They are the first to greet me as I roused from unconsciousness.

My body aching and stiff, I attempted to tilt my head to the side, barely turning an inch. All of it pointless as it was too dark to see anything.

Blind and immobile, panic gripped me.

Rampant speculation ran through my head. This must be Hell, a place that I believed that I will go to, but didn't really believe that it existed.

On the off hand, I always imagined that it would involve more fire and physical torture, and not sensory deprivation. The small, logical part of me shot down the notion that Hell caters to just one form of torture. The dominant me accepted the answer from logical and then told it to shut up as it really didn't care at this time.

In panic, I grew desperate and tried to force myself to move while ignoring the aching protests of my body. It barely twitched.

This time I tried harder, even though I was blinded by the pain from my exertion. For my suffering, I was rewarded with my arms uselessly flopping around me. Emboldened by my (rather pathetic) success I proceeded forward with disregard to the warnings my body is sending me, all for the purpose of **getting out**.

I continued to move, the constant bouts of pain my companion and taskmaster. Already, I feel my body moving, though I cannot feel the relation of each of my extremities.

I threw myself to the side with all the energy I could muster; and ended up rolling myself off a ledge and landing face first into the ground with a large thump.

I was dazed by the overwhelming pain and the humiliation, almost distracting me from a rhythmic thumping reaching my ears. At first I thought that it was my heart, before I realized that I could _already_ hear my heart and that the other sound is from a different source far away.

Before I could recover, the previously unseen door creaked open to a large man with a lantern, whose eyes lingered on the bed before settling on me beside it. He immediately ran towards me.

"Woah there friend. Easy now. No point in us healing you if you are going to injure yourself again."

Putting the lantern on the floor, he easily lifted me from the floor and set me on the bed.

I managed to finally cough out a question "Where..." am I? I coughed again.

"Easy there." He said as he raised his palms. He reached for a bottle next to the bed and brought it to my lips. "Here have some drink and ask me again."

I drank. It was ale. Not the best I had, but I didn't care. I drank deeply and greedily as my caretaker watched.

Bottle empty, throat wet, I asked him my question once more.

"Who are you? Where am I?"

He looks at me. "My name is Kottarald, friend, and you are in my house in Helgen."


	2. Chapter 1-1

Chapter 1 Snippet 1

Current Date: Decem Janua Whatever the fuck the local date is. 28th of Morning Star, 4E200

To those who read this, this journal is the property of one John. It is written for the sole purpose of cataloging my life and experiences as well as various miscellaneous uses such as a to-do list to a grocery list. If you find this, please return it back to me.

Not like there is a chance that this journal will actually come back to me when lost and none of you fucks would

Anyway, after a few weeks staring at the ceiling doing nothing but contemplating the various states of agony, I requested this journal so that I could write down all I know and to distract me from the pain. Which was incredibly painful. They seemed surprised that and suitably impressed that I am capable of both reading and writing and gladly gave me one. So here is what I remember so far: I was having a walk and the next thing I know, I found myself in Kottarald's home, in absolute agony.

When I first awoke, Kottarald told me that I fell from the sky and crashed in the forest near Helgen, that I only survived because I landed on the Alpha of the wolf pack hard enough it's organs to burst and caused blood to spray from its orifices, spooked the remaining wolves away and thus inadvertently saving his daughter. I would have eventually succumbed there if a nearby search party didn't hear the commotion and hadn't rushed to investigate, only to witness the scene of the missing girl covered in blood and traumatized while a unconscious stranger laid on top of a "large furred bag filled with pulverized bone and meat".

When I first came to they say that I am lucky to not be skewered by the treetops, but I say that I wouldn't be in this situation if I was lucky at all, to which they chuckled. Regardless, the girl's family

believed that it would be a grave dishonor to not take me as a guest and heal my wounds, using my silent unconscious ass as acceptance. Hearing my state when they found me, I would have been suicidally stupid to decline their hospitality if I was in coherent in anyway.

So that is a summary of the event from six weeks ago, from then on I spent my time getting to know the family while I took advantage of their hospitality to recover. They are a nice and happy family of three: The father and husband Kottarald, his wife Risi, and their 12 year old daughter Hellen.

The local quack 'healer' came by today and after poking and prodding me with a stick, claimed that I have recovered enough to move without major assistance and so permitted me outside.

Since today happens to be shopping day Risi decided that if would be a good idea for me to tag along with them to the marketplace, if nothing but to stretch my legs and get some fresh air.

As I walked down the cobbled streets of Helgen I shivered and wrapped myself deeper into the slain wolf's coat. Kottarald had skinned and fashioned the pelt for me to wear since as an apology for having to destroy my previous clothes to treat me. I didn't complain considering just how cold the area is.

I am currently touring the town of Helgen with Hellen, who is acting as a guide. Kottarald had to attend to the store front, while Risi began to immediately diverge and haggle with the other merchants, leaving Hellen to guide me around. Despite her being skittish around me, from the trauma of wolf entrails and blood covering her, she did a decent job of escorting me around the town. I am thankful as the place is a maze and I didn't delude myself into thinking that I will be able to navigate this place on my lonesome.

Unfortunately, apart from the occasional comment on the locations, Hellen was quiet like a mouse during our walk. Whatever conversation I managed to prod out of her was related to the city, how it had its started off as a intermediate resting point for trade caravans between Skyrim and Cyrodiil, and eventually grew into trade hub of sufficient importance to have it's own stone walls and its own small Legion garrison to protect its 10,000 citizens.

The walk was interesting at least as I have seen merchants selling elven luxury products such as Valenwood Beef and Summerset Fragrance perfumes all the way to craftsman tools and live animals. On an interesting note, armor and weapons are sold very openly here.

Not that my observations are helpful considering that I didn't have any local money.

"Looks like I need to find a job." I muttered.

Hellen looks at me. "I'm sorry mister, but I didn't hear what you were saying?"

"Don't worry about it. Just talking to myself."

"You're weird mister." She said bluntly.

I childishly retort. "When you become my age, you will behave just as weird so don't worry. Your time will come."

Hellen looks at me as if she wanted to say something, but decided to keep her mouth shut. Which meant I got bored, which left to me wandering my eyes to keep myself entertained. Through-out the morning and most of the afternoon, the roads that Hellen and I have walked were very well used and seemed to never be without some guards patrolling them. Though I did occasionally see a shady activity or two in the alleys, but they all slithered away when a patrol began to approach. None of my business anyway. After all, I don't want to find myself with a dagger sticking out of my torso.

A series of yells and laughter brought my out of my muse, and I scanned to see that it originated from a group of children playing ball. I noticed Hellen watching them with not-to-easily disguised envy.

I asked her. "Do you want to go play with them?"

She looks up, her eyes rapidly moving between the children and me.

"But Mama and Papa said to-"

"What they don't know won't hurt them. Go ahead and play with them, I need to sit down and rest anyway so..."

She looks at me for a beat before careening towards the other children while yelling at the top of her lungs. The other children barely having any time to register her before Hellen stole the ball and began running around the court.

As she played with her peers, I sat down on a nearby rock with total serenity scanning the area for anything interesting. They eventually settled on a man coming out of an alleyway. He was incredibly suspicious, even to an untrained eye like me. He was behaving oddly, as he was jittering as he was looked around the area with unfocused eyes, and he held something within the rags he was wearing. As I observed him, I carefully picked up a rock the size of my fist and hid it in my coat. I know that I shouldn't probably form assumptions, but screw that. You only die once, after all. I just hope that he doesn't notice me.

Fuck. He noticed me. Now he is wobbling towards me.

"Ex-excuse me kind sir. Would you be kind to give this poor beggar a c-coin so he can buy some food?" his voice jittered.

Ah, I see. "Sorry, sir. I currently don't have any money. Why don't you go to the charities and temples? I passed a few on my way here." I barely finished my sentence before he pulled out a dagger on me.

"L-listen you-u, give m-me your money and a-all you have right now! O-or I will gut you like a fish!"

His sudden outburst and random brandish of his weapon surprised me, and though I tried to not let my fear show I feel that I expressed some of it. I mentally cursed myself as I reasoned that people become more confident when they see a scared and subdued victim.

"Are you willing to murder someone for a few coins that they may or may not have?" I tried to reason with him.

"Give them to me!" He yelled, ignoring my question.

I continued, "I mean the punishment for murder is pretty harsh here I believe and that is if the guards just don't outright kill you."

"I don't give a shit! Give me e-everything you have!" he scream, spittle flying out of his rotten mouth.

I gripped the rock harder, preparing to bash his head as soon as he was distracted. I vaguely noticed that the kids have stopped playing and turned to watch the confrontation.

I spoke in a more forceful voice this time, "You do not want to do this. Just walk away."

Before he could open his mouth, there was a yell, "Halt! Drop your weapons! You are under arrest for brandishing a weapon with the intent of harm and robbery!"

As one, both the beggar-turned-mugger and I turned to see a group of Legion guards approaching with their weapons unsheathed, some with their swords others with their crossbows.

I admit that I relaxed my guard when I saw the Legionaries and was completely unprepared for the beggar to turn and stab me in the stomach, and run and grabbed the nearest child, a Redguard boy, before brandishing his knife to the child's face.

"Back away!" He screamed as he faced the guards, alternating his dagger between the child's neck and towards the legionarries. "I will kill him! I'll kill everyone!" He continued to scream incomprehensibly, frothing at his mouth. The children screaming as well. The guards yelling and pointing their weapons. The Redguard boy crying. I think he just pissed his pants.

I laid down on the ground stunned and shocked, as I briefly contemplated the situation. 'First day I am outside during my recovery, and I get stabbed by a medieval druggie who looks like he hasn't eaten anything for weeks. That is _impressive_.'

The yelling began to go distant in the background as with the children's screaming. 'He is definitely on some sort of drug. What kind of drugs are there in Tamriel apart from Skooma actually?' I thought.

I saw a blur moving in front of me. Focusing my eyes a bit revealed Hellen. Kneeling over me, silently screaming with tears in her eyes. 'Ah fuck. I can't pay them back if I am dead. But I am too tired.'

Behind Hellen I see the altercation between the guards and the beggar. The beggar was brandishing his blade, still red and gleaming with my blood, at the legionaries while still holding onto the child. For some reason I was angry.

I was angry. Angry about being in this world with no warning, having to sleep in an uncomfortable bed, eating disgusting gruel, humiliation for having to use a bedpan and being helped by my host, getting _stabbed_ by random asshole druggie whose only thought is when he could probably get his next fix, but mostly at myself for being apathetic and _**useless**_. So, I have enough of this shit. I am going to at least do something before I expire.

I still have the rock in my hands. The beggar is about 3 meters away from me. I am lying down on the floor. The legionaries are wary of that the hostage would be harmed. The beggar must be disarmed, then the only hostage threat to the guards would be useless.

I aimed the rock at the hand holding the dagger and threw it with whatever remaining strength I have, before remembering that whenever I threw something, it would always curve to the right. By the time I remembered my terrible aim, the rock has smashed right into the begger's head.

The beggar fell down screaming in pain as he released both the child and the weapon in favor of clawing at the rock, now lodged into the side of his head.

The legionaries acted swiftly, dragging the child away while containing the dagger and the fallen beggar.

'... Fuck me. That was really fucking lucky.' My thoughts drifted as I lied in a puddle of my blood. 'But the asshole deserved it… for stabbing me.' I blacked out as one of the guards tried to stop my bleeding. My last thoughts being 'This is why I don't go out anymore.'

Chapter 1 Snippet 1 End


	3. Chapter 1-2

Chapter 1 Snippet 2

I woke up. I don't know how much time has passed or where I was. The only thing I knew was that I was tired and that I was in a dark place yet again. At least it was warm.

Before I remembered what had happened.

I sprung up, my eyes breaking the crusted seal on my eyelids, before my body reminded me that I was stabbed and I curled into fetal position.

'It _**Hurts**_.' I snarled. I stayed still before I felt I gathered enough resolve to move again, slowly picking my body upright and leaning myself to the head of the bed.

Glancing around, I have noticed that I was not in Kottarald's home but rather in a room with rows of beds, a closed wooden door and a clothe covered window. Beside my bed was a stand, and with a flask and a bowl with rags on top. _Bloody_ rags. I shivered at just how close I was to dying.

Occupied by my mortality and the fear that gripped me, I did not notice the three people enter the infirmary and approach me.

It took me a while for me to notice them coming towards me, and a bit longer for me to wipe the sleep sand from my eyes for me to get a better look: They were two legionaries and an old wrinkled man wearing robes for someone trice as large. The legionaries seemed amused while the old man looked satisfied.

"Well, I see that you are as tough as your host says you are, as you are currently awake," stated the legionary on the left. "But it would be a good idea for our resident witch doctor here to check you anyways since, after all, you _were_ eviscerated by a rusty dagger." he finished.

"Call me a witch doctor again, and next time I will give you a paralyzing poison instead of a potion for your next patrol." grumbled the old man. He looked back at me.

"Lift your shirt, I need to see the extent of your scarring and determine at what state of healing your organs are at." he ordered.

"State of healing?" I confusingly asked, as I lifted my shirt for him to see my stomach. A quick glance confirmed that there was a thin jagged scar across it.

"Yes, state of healing," he condescendingly answered. "It is the state where I see how much of your organs have recovered from their damage, and see if it needs additional healing." He gently poked and prodded my scar with his fingers and hands.

After a brief inspection, seemingly satisfied, the old man allowed me to let my shirt down.

"Your wounds are healing nicely and there is no threat of infection or indication that your stomach will burst open. Unfortunately you need a few weeks to recover naturally, but other than that you are well enough to leave my infirmary now. Now git." He gestured for me to stand and leave, leaving me flabbergasted.

"Now now Frotgr, you can't just force someone to leave helpless the morning after getting _stabbed_." The right legionary argued. "I mean," He turned to me to ask "Do you even know which direction your host's house is?" Seeing my negatory head movement of 'No, I do not know where Krottarald's house is. I do not know where I am right _now_, though I can guess.', the legionary looked smugly at the old man, Frotgr I remembered.

The old man Frotgr stared back before exclaiming "Fine." He reached into his robes and pulled out a bottle, checking it before handing it to me. "Here is a potion that will allow you to heal a bit faster. Along with the healing potion" "It was barely a spoonful!" Ignoring the comment Frotgr continued, " the total cost would be 3 silver."

My confusion must be evident as he immediately answered: "3 silver is enough to feed a man and his family for three days with decent food. So that would be about 10 meals."

He began to rant, "You should be _thankful_ that we essentially gave you those expensive potions for _free_. I mean, back when I was in the war we were forced to share a single potion with the entire squad, a _single potion_, and even then only for the injuries that we know are only just bad enough to recover from so we had to let our mortally wounded comrades to die. Now, people are using them trivially, I have seen a fool use one to recover from a skinned _arm_. Why would the Divin-"

As that Frotgr began to pace and state his grievances to the ceiling, the two legionaries silently dragged me from the infirmary, leaving Frotgr behind. Eventually, as we walked down the cobbled hallway, even his muffled voice disappeared.

One of the legionaries, the one with the beard, blew air out of his mouth. "Sorry about Frotgr, he can get a bit too excited at times. Anyway, Hadvar, the beardless one, and I will escort you to your host's home, which was whom again?"

Hadvar spoke, "It was Kottarald, cousin Ralof-the-musclehead." Ralof swung at Hadvar, who ducked laughing.

Hadvar continued. "Anyway, you should probably drink that potion right now so that the effects would take place sooner. You know, so that you would feel less terrible sooner." He laughed again when I cringed at the smell emanating from the small beaker. "What, you thought it would be nice and sweet like milk? Just drink it."

He and Ralof chuckled a bit more as I reluctantly drank the potion, saved from my gag reflex as the potion amount was small to begin with.

When I finished forcing down the tears and glaring at them, I asked them, "So don't you have to take some sort of statement or testimony from me regarding the incident?"

Ralof, looking confused, replied "What? What statement?"

Hadvar was less confused and answered with a amused tone in his voice, "He means a witness testimony cousin. You know, the ones where we go around asking citizen near the incident area about what has happened and compile it so that we have an idea of what happened?"

Ralof absentmindedly scratched his beard, "You mean the thing that I let _you_ take care of while I make check the area for suspicious people?" He referred to me, "No, not really. I mean, it was a crime that was in the process of being committed with a clear display of criminal and victim, and the evidence carried about also shows a clearer picture of what had happened, speaking of which." We stopped in front of another wooden door, this one with a metal slide at eye level.

Ralof knocked on it, and a few moments passed before the slide opened to reveal a pair of eyes that took a moment to analyze us before closing the slide and opening the door to reveal a another legionary.

"Eran" nodded Hadvar, before Eran nodded back before replying.

"I see that you two are here with someone. Is he the reason why you are here?"

"Yes, you see this is the guy we brought in yesterday because he got stabbed by that skooma-head. Since the vagrant is dead and doesn't have any known kin, by all rights his property is now this guy's." Hadvar replied.

Eran stared at Hadvar before looking at me and Ralof then back to Hadvar.

"You mean the small worthless rusty iron dagger that was left behind? The one that can't even cut paper? _That_ one?" Eran exclaimed.

"Yes," Hadvar nodded, "That one."

"Just tell him to get a rock or something because at least that would probably be more effective! I mean-!" Eran sighed. "Fine, I'll go get that rusting piece of metal. Stay here." He closed the door.

Ralof looked at me, "Well, at least you don't have to worry about being unarmed, though I would not recommend using it for anything other than melting it down for scrap."

I didn't hear him actually, I wasn't focusing on the conversation since they stated that the druggie was _dead_. I felt nauseous. Then I remembered how the rock was _lodged_ into the side of the druggie's head, how the person was flailing around on the ground as the legionary guards surrounded him.

I finally blurted out. "Did - did I kill him?" I asked. I was still at the point where I was about to vomit. _So much blood_.

Hadvar and Ralof looked at me questioningly. "Yes you did? I don't believe anyone could survive having their skull caved in by a rock, even if they have a potion. That was a nice throw with the rock by the way, cleanly killing vagrant without harming the hostage, but you should generally leave it to us guards to deal with it."

I was getting more and more sick when he complimented on my kill. _It was supposed to disarm him_. "But I threw the rock to disarm him."

Ralof looked at me, before slightly leaning down to my eye level. "Well then, then it was just fortunate that you missed instead. I don't know why you were aiming at his weapon, maybe for a misguided feeling of mercy, but you need to know and understand what would have happened if you did hit the dagger. The criminal could have had another weapon with him, or could have threatened to tear open the child's throat, or many other things. Even if we did subdue him and take him to the prison, with no wealth, usefulness nor connections, he would have most likely have been killed anyways. So instead of thinking of it as a moral failure, think of it as a mercy and an efficient and expedient way of bringing the conflict to an end."

He rose to his full height. "I understand that taking a life is not easy, especially if it is your first time, but know that it isn't your fault and be at least glad that you have saved an innocent from injury. You cannot save someone or fight for what you believe in without harming someone else, so at the very least, take comfort in your actions being judged as worthy by your peers. Or at least knowing that one less corrupting influence is gone. Which ever one allow you to sleep easier at night works."

I nodded, closing my eyes and swallowing my nausea, not wanting to argue the point any more.

The door in front of me opened and Eran came out, with a small dagger covered by a sheath. He looked at us, detecting our solemn mood.

"Did I miss something?"

Chapter 1 Snippet 2 End


	4. Chapter 1-3

Sorry for the long wait for the next snippet. I got... side-tracked in a way.

Regardless I am still not happy with this update, but decided to post it anyways to get it out of the door.

Chapter 1 Snippet 3

"... and finally you put your signature or mark here, for documentation that you are now in possession of the item in question." concluded Eran, as he handed me a quill.

I dumbly nodded, took the quill and signed off on the document. When Eran returned, he didn't just bring me the "weapon", but also a few documents that I had to look over and sign in order to make the transfer official.

Despite taking less than half hour to read and sign the documents, to me it felt as if hours have passed by. I was never one for legal documents, and everytime I read something even remotely law based, I shut down my mind and passively read the words with little or none entering my brain before signing it, fatigued regardless. Back in my world, doing such thing would be foolish as hidden meanings and loopholes means that the owner of the contract can sufficiently dupe the contractee to do whatever they want legally.

Thankfully, from the brief moment I skimmed it, the document of claiming the dead assaulter's possessions were refreshingly simple and easy to understand: The person who assaulted you is now dead, therefore you have the right to claim his/her possessions for yourself. Followed by a signature area where you sign to notify that you have claimed said possessions.

While signing the document, I thought 'You know, despite the bandit raids, food shortages, animal attacks, and the eventual dragons, at least the legal documents are simple and to the point.

I handed the single page document back to Eran, who looks over it and nods with satisfaction before handing me the rag covered dagger. He spoke, "All looks good. Here is you rusted rod - I mean dagger." He corrects himself before looking at me directly. "But if you want my honest opinion, I would suggest melting that thing down for scrap or just outright selling it to a blacksmith for _some_ coin. It is too damaged and rusted for even any proper utilitarian use."

I unsheathed the dagger and inspected it myself. What Eran said was completely true, the 'blade' of the dagger was rusted down to a short iron cylinder, flaking off into a grayish brown pieces. The leather on the handle was cracked and visibly strained. I see a bit of mildew on it.

I grimaced in disgust before resheathing the 'dagger'.

"Yeah," started Ralof, looking over my shoulder at the dagger. "I wouldn't even bother trying to sell it, it takes too much effort for what is worth. I would suggest just throwing it away."

"I am more confused at how this _thing_ didn't give me an infection, or worse." I exclaimed in disbelief.

Hadvar slaps me in the back and grins as I stumble forward. He began to speak.

"That is because of the marvels of modern medical practices. Frotgr may be a grouchy rat-ass bastard who probably causes more pain than he should, but he is very experienced and knows the importance of sanitation and proper medical procedures. After all, he did serve in the Great War."

"Great War?" I asked, before remembering about the events that had happened prior to the games, and had ultimately lead up to the civil war here in Skyrim. "Right, the Great War. The one against the Elves."

Hadvar nodded. "The one where the Thalmor invaded the Empire in an attempt to subjugate men, but got their asses kicked for their trouble by the 'inferior' races?" I asked, raising my hands to finger quote the word 'inferior', emphasising it.

Eran snorted. "Yes, those so high and mighty elves thought that they would be able to trample all over the Empire like they own it?"

He then stood and barked out a laugh. "They believed that the Empire is full of weak and pitiful fools who can't defend themselves. They came with hidden armies at the borders, posed to strike the instant the order came through! Their initial attack was devastating, ravaging the southern borders almost instantly. They decided to march deeply into the Empire, so confident of their elven superiority

He then swept his arms in front of him horizontally, "HAH! They got their entire army slain, down to the last individual. Their commander hanged alive from the White Tower for 33 days, for the heinous crimes that they have committed in the Imperial City!"

He stretched his arms to the ceiling, his body in a Y-pose. "Their arrogance has been their undoing during the war and their hubris will be their downfall!"

I stared at Eran for a moment before I managed to compose myself enough to respond in an eloquently fashion. "What the fuck?"

Ralof lowed his hands he was covering his face with, putting them on my shoulders before responding "Just ignore him and don't look at him either. We will talk to him later about it."

Before I had time to reissue my question, both he and Hadvar lifted me by my armpits and carried me to the exit with great speed.

By the time we were outside, by arms began to prickle as the blood began to flow into them again.

Carefully not touching anything, as I dislike the extra sensitivity of my limbs waking from sleep, I asked my escorts once more. "So, what the fuck was with him?

Ralof sighed and Hadvar awkwardly looked to the side. "Eran is a bit... eccentric and occasionally a bit queer and has a minor case of being easily excitable. Which got him in enough trouble that he was reassigned as a quartermaster's assistant. Just give him a few more years to learn."

Hadvar spoke, "At least he has a good mind for regulations and logistics. Get some good out of him despite his quirks."

Ralof slouched a bit forward while we walked before grunting his response, "I just wouldn't take him out for a patrol in the streets. We are _still_ paying for the incident."

Hadvar visibly stiffened, before relaxing into his march.

I was about to ask about said incident before I stopped myself. Obviously Eran has gotten himself into a bit of trouble that caused a ton of grief for his fellow soldiers. Maybe I shouldn't ask them about the event that they are talking about.

By the time I finished that thought, I had already asked my question. I waited a moment or two for a reply, before I took a glance at my escorts.

Both wore stern expressions on their face, and their eyes looking far away. I never saw the 'thousand yard stare' before. I certainly didn't imagine that the incident was _that_ bad.

As we passed the market, it seemed that the day was soon to end, judging by how the merchants and shopkeepers were packing their wares and taking down their stalls.

By the time we reached Kottarald's home the sky was orange as the sun set for the day.

I stepped forward and knocked on the door, waited a while, and knocked on the door again.

I was about to pound on the door due to my frustrations before a loud cough came from behind us.

Kottarald and his wife, Risi I remember, was behind us carrying their wares that they have failed to sell for that day.

I was about to greet them, but paused as Kottarald spoke first.

"Why are you here?" He asked contemptuously.

Chapter 1 Snippet 3 End


End file.
